The One That Didn't Get Away
by Arkan9
Summary: AU The Titans have faced many challenges together, but the latest may be the most puzzling yet: a series of strange robberies and an invisible thief. Meanwhile, a boy takes an interest in the team, for more than one reason...
1. No Place Like Home

This is the first fanfic I've ever posted, so be nice! That doesn't mean I can't accept criticism, though; all comments are greatly appreciated. In fact, you don't have to be nice at all if you don't want to. The title is a tentative one, so any ideas for that and titles of this and subsequent chapters are welcomed, too.

It's an AU, so I'll use that as my excuse if there's OOC-ness. I actually really like this idea, and the whole plot's sorta clicking together the more I think about it. I was proud of it, but then shortly after writing this first chapter I found another similar story (although not on ff dot net). I swear, though, I didn't copy; I had this idea all by myself!

I probably won't have much free time for writing, so expect updates to be sporadic. It probably won't make much sense at first, either, but all shall be explained.

I think that's it, apart from…enjoy! (And don't forget to review!)

* * *

Chapter One

"What is it?"

"Just another small-scale robbery; a downtown jewellery store. Let's go, Titans!"

All but one ran straight out; Raven floated behind a little, lost in thought. She'd been having premonitions for weeks, ever since the bank robbery a month or so back when they turned up only to find a significant lack of a villain, but now the feeling was definitely stronger. The police investigators were still baffled as to how anyone could have gotten past the various security measures, which were far from sloppy due to the numerous break-in attempts (successful ones, more often than they would have liked). So far, there were no promising leads.

It wasn't the only one of its kind, either. That had been the first, but since then scatterings of robberies had sprung up all over the city. There was no pattern that anyone could find, and no one had been caught.

Raven knew even before she climbed into the T-car with the others that this would be another failed mission to stop an enemy they'd never even seen. As the car sped across the water, she stared out of the window and reflected again on how strange all this was. Robin had mentioned something a few days ago about a possible connection between the burglaries, but it was only a thought, really, and hadn't been taken further than that. Most crime in Jump City was random, and the common criminal was never keen to stick around the scene of a crime.

That was just the problem, though; this was not the work of a common criminal. This was the work of someone who obviously knew what they were doing through a lot of experience…and incredible skill. They slipped past locked doors, taking out cameras and security systems before they could even register an invasion, and seemed to be in and out again before the alarms had sounded. The thief might as well have been invisible for all anyone had seen of them. This didn't fit with their information, though, because the villains with that kind of talent were the ones who liked to show off a little before making their getaway, often purposely waiting for the Titans to show up so they could indulge in a little pre-escape battling. It was unanimous among the bad guys that it made the whole experience a lot more fun.

They soon arrived at their destination, and Raven stepped out with her hood securely in place. From within its shadow she surveyed the front of the store as Robin talked with the owner. There were no smashed windows or any other signs of a forced entry; there was no indication that some of its finest pieces had been stolen not ten minutes ago.

Robin had finished his quick questions. "Team, spread out. See if you can find any clues."

They did so, obediently, although they all knew it was pointless. They never found anything; why would they today?

Raven sighed and lifted herself into the air, deciding to try an aerial scan of the area. Her eyes passed over the layout of the buildings below, trying to trace escape routes from the shop. For a moment she thought she caught a small movement in one of the back alleys, but shrugged it off as a plastic bag or something.

She should have learned by now to trust her instincts.

After a few minutes they returned, defeated. They would almost be glad to see one of their regulars, but the usual suspects seemed to be resting for the moment.

They entered the lounge and started aimlessly wandering towards their favourite spots. Robin passed a hand over his face and glanced at the computer, wondering if he should spend some more time researching possible explanations for the robbery. He decided, however, that he couldn't allow himself to get too obsessive.

"Titans, training time."

There was a collective groan from the others.

* * *

"What d'ya get?" asked a gruff voice, the words slightly slurred. The boy opened his palm, revealing a fistful of golden rings, necklaces and various other trinkets. The expensive items dangled ungracefully from a central twisted clump of chains. He dropped the pile of treasure distastefully into the man's greedily awaiting hands and watched his sunken eyes flicker through the selection. 

"Not much," he grunted, turning to give the boy a glare that would have been sharp had it not been dulled by alcohol. The boy only glared coolly back.

"It's enough. You know I can't take much."

"You're not tryin'."

"We could get more if you still came _with_ me." His voice was respectfully devoid of emotion, to the untrained ear. Only the two involved in the conversation could have detected a spark of defiance…and one of them was inebriated.

They regarded each other for a while, then the older man looked away with a muttered curse. "Fine. But you're going out again tomorrow. Something bigger this time; maybe a museum. And _maybe_, if you're lucky, you'll have company." He reached for his beer bottle, only to find it was empty. The boy wrinkled his nose at the stench. _Although I should be used to it by now; it always fills up the whole place…_ The man turned towards another doorway to yell at his companion. "Oi, Kurt! Somethin' to add to the collection."

There was a slight clattering sound before a reply was heard. "Good; shove 'em in the sack, then, Stokes."

Stokes nodded, although the gesture was lost, and waved a dismissive hand at the youngster still standing by his couch. "Bed. Now. You'll 'ave an early start; we 'ave items to sort out ready for resale."

"What about dinner?"

Stokes sneered. "I'm sure you found somethin' in a trashcan somewhere. That's what you do, ain't it? Go on, get outta my sight."

The boy growled low in his throat but, remembering previous thrown bottles, quickly retreated to his 'room'. It was really just a musty rectangular space with a rough blanket on the floor which served as a bed; the walls were bare plaster, cracked in the corners, and there was a patch of ominously spreading mould on the ceiling near the wall which should have held a window. His few possessions that he'd managed to hang onto were strewn across the floor for want of somewhere better to put them. There was no light; when he shut the door, he was encased in total darkness.

Still, he'd seen worse.


	2. The Heist

35 hits but no reviews? Aww... :( Ah well, can I have some reviews this time? Please?

Behold, the next chapter! The story should start to get more interesting after this. It'll also start to make more sense, hopefully. Please review and tell me what you think!

* * *

Chapter Two

The next day, the Titans found their leader pacing in the main room. It wasn't an unusual sight in the least, but it did bring back bad memories of the 'Slade Days'. Robin seemed to have mostly gotten over his obsession, but every now and then…

Raven decided to interrupt before his steel boots wore through another carpet. "Robin. What's wrong?"

Robin turned to face his team, hands still clasped behind his back. "It's these robberies; I just don't get it. The clues don't fit together. The criminal's hitting random places, as if all they're after is some quick cash, not specific items, but the amount of skill…it's almost like magic."

"Don't rule it out," Raven commented dryly.

Robin gave a wry smile. "Well, were there any traces of magic at the crime scene yesterday?"

"Not that I could detect."

"And that's another thing I don't get! At that store yesterday, it was pure chance that the owner even realised something was missing; it just so happened that he checked the stands that had been holding the stolen items when he got back in. They were taken while he was out 'buying doughnuts'; the only reason we know the exact time is because the tape shows when the cameras were cut." He held up the tape in question. "For all we know, this could be happening all over the place without people even _realising_ they're being robbed."

"Wait," interjected Cyborg, "don't the tapes show _anything?_"

"Well…" Robin looked doubtful. "I thought – well, I'll just show you." He took the tape over to the computer console and pushed it in, then waited for the image to flicker up on the big screen. He pressed play.

The screen showed a dimly-lit corridor, apparently out the back of the store. Nothing was moving. Robin wound it on to just before the tape cut off. The Titans watched the unmoving picture for a few seconds before it abruptly cut to black.

"There!" cried Robin. "Did anyone else see that?"

He rewound it again and paused just before it went blank and pointed to a spot in the bottom-right corner. "There, see that little blurry shape? That's the only thing I've noticed. I tried zooming in, but the resolution's not good enough. It's just a blur."

"Friend Robin, what will be our next course of action? We have learned very little from this tape or from visiting the scenes of crime. How shall we catch the criminal if we cannot find any clues?"

Robin ran a weary hand through his hair. "I really don't know, Star. I guess we'll just have to wait until something comes up…"

* * *

"Wake up, you lazy brat. There's work to do." 

The boy stirred and opened his eyes. He sat up quickly, his instincts telling him, after years of hard-learned lessons, that it wasn't safe to be vulnerable. Realising he was in no immediate danger, he groggily rubbed a hand across his face and met the eyes of the man standing over him. "What is it, Kurt?"

"You've been sleepin' fer ages; it's dark. We thought we'd let you rest – you're gonna need yer strength – but it's nearly time to go. You need to get ready. You remember the plan?"

"Yeah, of course. Same as always."

"Yeah, but don't forget it's different this time, 'cause we'll be there. You watch out, all right? If anything happens to us because of you…"

He moved away, leaving the threat hanging in the air. The boy stretched and stood up before surveying the room. Kurt was walking over to Stokes to help check their gear, glancing over a blueprint of the museum as he did so. The boy wasn't sure where they'd gotten that from; one of their new city friends, he'd wager.

"All right, kid, let's get moving. What's your first job?"

"Scout ahead."

"Right. Go on, then."

The two men followed the boy, who had already stepped into the crisp air. They watched him glance one way, then the other, before setting off for Jump City Museum of Ancient Artefacts.

* * *

The team had leaped into the T-car almost before Robin could announce that they were heading to the museum. They had been alerted to an in-progress crime, which was almost a relief after all the disappointment and anti-climaxes of the past few weeks. They were all eager to get a crook behind bars tonight. 

"So, do you think it could be our boy?" asked Cyborg, navigating the dark streets with a precision only he could achieve at that velocity.

"I don't know," replied Robin, staring intently at the information on his communicator. "Apparently two men were spotted sneaking in a side door; it's not like our guy to bring company, especially not someone who's gonna get seen like that."

"So you think these two are just your regular run-of-the-mill crooks then?"

"It's likely, although they managed to get in without tripping any alarms. That was only a few minutes ago, and they haven't been seen leaving, so they should still be in there. We should get them easy – assuming, of course, that they don't have help… All right, pull up here."

Cyborg stopped the car opposite the museum and everyone clambered out. They regarded the imposing building from across the street. It was one of Jump City's older buildings, and its age showed; cracks ran across the cold concrete walls which seemed to be struggling to support the slightly lopsided roof. It was a wide, squat structure, settled on a patch of thistles and gangly, sickly-looking weeds, and the rust was clear around the edges of the door- and window-frames where the old paint had peeled away. All in all, it looked like a much unloved place, and it probably hadn't seen many visitors in recent years. Raven almost felt a pang of pity, before she reminded herself that it was just a building.

"OK, Titans," Robin called, snapping everyone back into action mode. "Raven, you and Cyborg go through the side door that the men used – try to be quiet, and report anything you find. We'll take the front entrance." With that the team split to fulfil their assigned duties.

Raven took a deep breath before nodding at Cyborg. She glanced back at Robin and Starfire running (and flying) towards the front of the building before she glided to the side door. Cyborg was close behind her, and they stood on either side of the door.

"Can you sense anything?" he asked quietly.

Raven closed her eyes. "There are a couple of auras further in, and something else – something—" She opened her eyes with a slight frown on her face. "Strange."

The half-robot nodded, unsure what to make of this. "Well, no time like the present."

With synchronised motions that had been formed from working together a long time, they simultaneously whirled around to face the door, pushed it open and stepped through, quietly. They stood for a moment in the dark, Raven blinking as her eyes adjusted and Cyborg scanning the space with his infra-red eye. "It would be safe to use a little light," she told him, reaching out for the auras she had sensed earlier. "They're not too close."

Cyborg complied, flicking on a small shoulder-light. He dimmed it to make the white beam less stark, then prepared his sonic cannon. "Which way?" he asked, indicating the corridors to either side of them. Raven started to the right, although truthfully she wasn't really sure; this was the direction she could feel the auras of what were most likely the two thieves they were after, but there was that strange presence the other way, confusing her empathic senses. She decided to investigate after they'd dealt with their primary targets.

* * *

"Hey, Kurt, look!" 

"Keep your voice down. Yeah, I see it. Kid, over 'ere!"

The boy, having just returned from a circular scout of the place, left his post at the door to join the two men. They were standing by one of the larger glass cases, and as he approached Stokes gestured to an object inside. His eyes widened as he took in the sight. Stokes grinned, an almost maniacal gleam in his eyes. "That one," he said, holding out his already bulging sack. He was like a twisted version of a child at Christmas, pointing to some toy in a store window.

The boy nodded, and stepped up to the case, gazing at its contents, pondering the best way to break in…

* * *

"Found anything?" 

Even Robin's whisper sounded far too loud in the deathly-still old place. Both Raven and Cyborg inwardly cringed, before she muttered a quiet, "No."

"No, neither have we. Keep going, though; we're getting closer to each other, so hopefully we can ambush them from both sides."

The communicator clicked off and Robin's face disappeared.

"We're nearly there," Raven informed him, her voice barely even a whisper, but Cyborg had no problem catching it. Even without his cybernetic hearing, the silence was so great that he was sure he could have heard a feather hitting the floor. Come to think of it, he could hear something up ahead; it sounded like voices…

* * *

The boy cracked the case open as silently as possible, then lifted the heavy golden statue from its stand. Stokes looked at it, then at his bag, then back at the statue. 

"You'll have to carry it," he announced. "Even if it would fit, there's no way I'm luggin' that thing around."

He cringed at the volume of the man's voice, certain that someone would find them any second now. It was only a feeling, but he had found his instincts to be very reliable, and right now they were telling him to run for it. He cursed himself for suggesting they should come; he remembered now why he preferred working alone. He could move silently and without detection; his two companions lacked his stealth.

His sensitive ears twitched, trying to pick up anything above their talking. Weren't those footsteps? If only they'd stop being so loud—

"—ready to go? I think we've got all we can carry."

"Yeah, let's get outta here. Come on, kid; and don't you drop that."

The boy set down his load for a moment so he could talk. "I think someone's coming."

Kurt whirled around. "_What?!_ Why didn't you _tell_ us?" The boy bit back the obvious retorts; it wasn't worth arguing. "Well, then, all the more reason to get going. Watch our backs, runt."

They started for the door, but at that moment two sets of doors, on either side of the large gallery, burst open. "Titans, go!"

The boy panicked and dropped the statue he'd just picked up again. The two thieves swore and ran for the door, refusing to drop their loot even though the sacks were hitting against their legs, slowing them down.

As soon as he let go of the statue, he changed to a smaller form and dived behind a pillar. He glanced quickly at the four teenagers who had just entered: a guy with dark, spiky hair and a mask, a tall girl with long red hair and green glows surrounding her hands as she flew, a large guy who seemed to be mostly metal, and a figure cloaked in blue, the face concealed within a hood. He quickly realised they must be superheroes, and his fear of law-enforcers that had been drummed into his head for so long made him turn and flee.

He kept to the shadows, but Kurt and Stokes were forced to run mostly in the open, although they tried to dodge and weave between pillars in an attempt to slow down their pursuers – the four young superheroes had already spotted them and made chase. It wasn't working; they had a good head start, but the teens were catching up fast.

Kurt reached the door first, but just as he reached for the handle the whole door became encased in black energy. He jerked his hand back with a yelp and whirled around – the creepy cloaked kid's eyes were glowing white, and her outstretched hands were surrounded by black spheres. He growled and kicked the door, then tried to wrench it open. Stokes joined him, puffing and panting, and frantically tried to help. The hero brats would reach them any second, and then they'd be done for—

Robin leaped at them with a war cry, but just before his foot could make contact with the nearest thug's head, the door was pulled open from outside, the two men fell through, and the door slammed again, leaving him to crash into it with a loud _thud_.

On the other side of the door, Kurt and Stokes didn't need to be told to run. They made a mad dash for their getaway car without stopping to thank their rescuer, who was now trying to hold the door shut in the form of a T-Rex.

The combined strength of the four teenagers was too great for him to keep this up, but he only needed to give his partners-in-crime some time to make their escape. He heard the squeal of tires as the car sped away, then a second later he felt the door begin to give. In a second his large form was replaced by that of a fly, just as the doors burst open.

The Titans jumped out, only to be greeted by an empty street. There was no sign of the two thieves anywhere – so who, or what, had been holding the door?

"Chase them!" yelled Robin, although neither he nor any of the others had any idea which way to go. They wordlessly split up; Raven and Starfire rose into the air, Cyborg ran around to get in the T-car and Robin sprinted down the road.

None of them noticed that in a nearby alley, a pair of green eyes was peering out from within the safety of a garbage can's shadow.


	3. Desperate Times

OK, so finally, here's chapter three. I'd apologise, but I doubt anyone really minds. For anyone who does, it's a super long chapter to make up for it. Seven pages in Word! I was thinking of splitting it in two, but I didn't really want to break up the flow.

Enjoy! Things should start to get a lot more interesting after this.

* * *

Chapter Three

"What the hell were you _thinkin'_?!

Gar was shoved roughly into the small apartment. He fought for his balance, and would have won if it hadn't been followed up by a kick.

"I—"

"Not _only_ did you nearly get us caught by the super-brats, but you dropped the friggin' statue! I bet that thing was worth more than the whole stinkin' lot together…"

"Look, I'm sorry, I just—"

"Shut it, scum – I don't wanna hear it. It was your bright idea in the first place that got us into this mess! Gawd, I'd give ya a beatin' fer it now if I wasn't so tired…" Stokes rubbed his back as if he'd just returned from a hard day's work. "Kurt, do it for me?"

Gar shuffled backwards until he was leaning against the wall, eyeing the two men warily. Kurt swung his bag of loot onto the couch and glanced over at the boy apathetically. "Maybe tomorrow. I need some Z's."

He strode towards his bedroom, but not before driving a hard boot into Gar's stomach as he passed. The boy drew in a sharp gasp involuntarily and drew his knees up to his chest. Stokes spat at him before disappearing through the same door Kurt had used. The door slammed and Gar was left alone in the darkened 'living room'. The name was deceptive; _probably more things die in here than live_, he thought as he eyed a small, lumpy shape in the far corner that might once have been a rat.

_I'm lucky they're tired; they left me alone for once._ He stood carefully, knowing that too much exertion was not wise on such an empty stomach. It was no wonder he was so skinny; he was lucky to get a meal a day…and a 'meal' usually consisted of leftover fries and maybe an apple if the two crooks were feeling generous. Usually, though, they seemed to prefer eating meat just because they knew he couldn't pick up the scraps afterwards. If his animal powers didn't grant him scavenging abilities, he would have been long dead by now.

He walked shakily over to the window and stared out at the grey streets. It looked bleak out there, cold and unfamiliar, and yet he longed for freedom. _I wonder what would happen if I just ran away…?_ He shook his head. _Don't think that._ _You know what would happen: they'd find you. They'd track you down, and then things'd be worse than they are now._

He turned away from temptation with a sigh and picked his way through the mess on the floor to the couch. He changed himself to a cat, the creature known for making itself comfortable anywhere, and nestled down against the couch cushions.

* * *

Raven sank into the couch cushions with a sigh, book in hand, as she listened to the others. They were _still_ talking about the museum. Ever since Robin had eventually admitted defeat, allowing them to return home, he hadn't shut up about the damn mission. Perhaps it was understandable – after all, the Titans were very rarely beaten – but all the same, Raven's patience was wearing thin. Very thin. 

"I just don't get it – they were right there, and we were about to—but then—they must have had an accomplice."

"Yeah, Rob, I think we already established that."

"I believe Friend Cyborg is correct; we have already discussed all aspects of the mission in great detail. Perhaps it would be best for us to rest, and continue investigating in the morning?"

Robin sighed wearily. "Yeah, Star, I guess you're right. Let's all call it a day, huh?"

Starfire and Cyborg agreed, obviously relieved, and the three turned to the dark girl sitting upright on the couch, her eyes impassive as they scanned the words of one of her dusty old tomes. "Raven? You coming?"

She didn't lift her eyes to look at them as she answered, "No, I'll stay here a while." They shrugged and left the room, each calling "Goodnight". She didn't reply.

When she heard their footsteps fading away down the corridor, her eyes slid up to check the door and the heavy book flopped onto her lap. She released a small sigh and stood up, placing the book on the coffee table, before walking over to the huge window. She gazed out, her eyebrows tensed in a slight frown, and wondered why she felt so strange, almost…apprehensive. She had a feeling, a strong, psychic sort of feeling, that something was going to happen. She just didn't know whether it was a good or bad thing.

The dark waters surrounding their island offered her no answer.

* * *

Gar woke up feeling stiff; hardly surprising considering he'd just spent a whole night in a form other than his regular 'human' one. He transformed where he was, so he was sitting up on the small couch, and started rubbing his aching muscles. Apparently Kurt and Stokes either hadn't noticed him or had chosen to ignore him. 

"Up. Now."

No such luck, then.

He stood as quickly as he could and turned to meet Kurt's hard eyes. The tall man and the stouter Stokes were standing side by side, motionless, glaring at the boy with the utmost contempt. Gar gulped. No matter how many times he awoke to the sight, that same fist of dread would clench in his insides. After all, he knew exactly what was coming.

"Get over here," growled Stokes.

Gar took a deep breath and slowly, gingerly, stepped closer. It felt very much like walking towards Death Row. He clenched his fists at his sides and slowly raised his eyes to meet Stokes'. He started to turn his head to Kurt, but the only thing he saw was a large fist right in front of his face.

* * *

The Titans were having a dull day. 

There had been no calls today. There were no shows or carnivals. There was no bright sun to tempt them out to the park. The sky was a plain, solid grey; even a thunderstorm would have been preferable to this boring, indecisive weather. At least lightning would have brightened things up a bit.

Robin hadn't yet moved from the console in the main room, searching for possible culprits or any reported previous sightings of the two crooks – and their mysterious accomplice. He was looking at blueprints and photos of the old museum, trying to find possible entry points, and at a list of the stolen items, trying to find some sort of pattern or clue.

Without him, Cyborg was dejectedly playing the 'much less fun' one-player version of his favourite racing game. He was winning, but it didn't look like he was putting that much effort in; he wasn't leaning forward, glued to the screen, as usual, but slouched against the backrest, human eye half closed.

Starfire was drifting aimlessly around the tower. She had already cooked Tamaranian Pudding of Boredom, Pudding of Poor Weather and Pudding of Having Too Much Time On One's Hands, and was now apparently looking for inspiration. The various concoctions looked very similar to Raven…similarly lethal.

The dark teen seemed to be the only one enjoying the free time. She had already completed today's necessary meditation and was now finishing her latest novel. The only sounds were the tapping of buttons, the occasional grunt from the direction of the computer and Starfire's sighs.

Cyborg finished his race, in first place, with a bored "Boo-yah." He tossed the controller aside and looked around the room. "Isn't there _anything_ we can do?!"

Robin didn't answer. Starfire looked hopeful. Raven was the only one to speak, with a simple "Not really."

* * *

The front door slammed shut, leaving Gar alone again. 

He pushed himself onto all fours and coughed up some blood. The movement hurt his ribs – he was no doctor, but it felt like a couple were broken. He stayed leaning over the floor, supported by wobbling arms, as he gasped and wheezed, trying to get his breath back. As he gulped in air he felt tears burning behind his eyes. He forgot about pride for a moment – he'd already lost it today – and let them fall, dripping onto the worn-out carpet. The only sound for quite some time in the small apartment was his heavy breathing.

Eventually he summoned his strength and hauled himself to a kneeling position. He placed his hands on the nearby couch and, with a great effort, pulled himself onto it. The strain was too much for his abused body, and he let out a whimper.

_Time to assess the damage_, he thought grimly. First he checked over his arms and legs, finding a number of scratches and bruises. _Nothing too bad_. He pressed his fingers gently over his ribs and chest through his now ripped shirt, feeling which parts hurt the most, and worked his way up to his face. The lower half, around his jaw, was especially achy, and his left eye was swollen.

He sat still for another few minutes. He then changed to a cat, trying to ignore the pain, so he could make it to the bathroom. Animals in general are better at tolerating pain, as he had discovered. He limped to their small bathroom and once there transformed back in front of the mirror. His face was a mess; large areas of the usually green skin were now a blotchy purple. He also had a long red mark across his forehead. He ran the cold tap (not that he had a choice; there wasn't any hot) and tried to clean himself off a little, pushing away thoughts of how he had sustained injuries. He rinsed out the sink to clean away the reddish marks then dried his face with an old towel.

Feeling a little better, he changed to a cat again to walk to his sleeping area. He flopped on the blanket as a human and lay on his back, tracing the cracks in the ceiling with his eyes. He knew every one of them by now. _What am I doing here?_ he asked himself, not for the first time. _What did I do to deserve this?_

He knew that things hadn't always been this bad – otherwise how would he know that _this_ was bad, without something to compare it to? – but his memories of the times before were faded at best.

The one thing he remembered was his name. _Garfield Logan_. He clung to that identity for all he was worth; it was his most prized possession. It was a wonder he even knew it any more, since he hadn't heard it spoken out loud in years, and the last time had been when he was very young. Aside from a name, he didn't really know who he was. He was sure he had been human at one time, but he couldn't remember ever being not green. He had an image in his head of a lab, and needles, but that was the closest he could get.

His memories of his parents were hazy; he wasn't even sure if he had their hair colours right. He must have been around six when they died. After that there were a few months alone in the jungle, loosely watched over by King Tawaba. Those had been good times, despite the fact that he was mourning his parents – he liked the total freedom, with no one to tell him what to do; he liked sitting in trees for the morning then going for a swim in his waterfall-pool in the midday heat. His animal side allowed him to find new jungle friends – he'd even found a chimpanzee 'roomie' – and provided him with invaluable survival instincts. He'd been content there, for a while.

And then… Then two thieves came to Africa from America, having caught word of some legendary treasure: two of the world's largest rubies, in the form of a giant temple-statue's eyes. Mobu, the witch doctor, had helped the men find the jewels, but on one condition: they had to kill one small green boy.

Mobu had always been distrustful of Gar's 'magic' and had a deep-rooted hatred for the boy. In the end the deal did cost a life, but it was not Gar's; it was Mobu's.

Not that the thieves didn't try to dispose of Gar at first; he still remembered that bullet that had grazed his head while in tiger form. He hadn't even known what a gun was before that, but a deep fear of them was burned into his head from that moment.

After seeing what he could do, however, the calculating cogs in the heads of those two crooks started turning. What were two gems compared to all the piles of bounty this freaky little kid could steal for them? So they decided to 'rescue' their newfound 'miracle' and take him back to America. Once there, they wasted no time in putting him to the test, and he soon proved his worth.

They treated him well for those first few months; he was fed and clothed, and they even gave him things to play with sometimes. He didn't mind his 'missions'; it was fun, trying to find new ways of sneaking in and out of secure places. He enjoyed the challenge, and soon he was an expert.

The novelty soon started to wear off, though, and he was more neglected. They still made use of him, of course – no sense in wasting a good thing (not to mention that the scrounging brat had to earn his keep somehow). Still, things were fine…until that one awful day.

The two had gone out and left Gar in the apartment…with nothing but gold and diamonds to keep him company. They'd told him they were just toys; so what better thing to do with toys than play a game? That's just what he did; he hid all the treasure under the mattresses in the main bedroom and waited eagerly for the thieves to return, thinking it would make them laugh.

They both came home, at different times, they both assumed the other had taken everything for himself, and they both got angry. They found each other, and the confrontation was ugly; guns were drawn, and they probably would've killed each other right then and there if they hadn't realised just in time what had really happened.

That night, Gar received his first ever beating. It was not an experience he could quickly forget.

After that, things only deteriorated. The men got more suspicious of the boy, and they started to blame him when things went wrong. He got less food and more beatings. Instead of toys he was given harsh orders. Missions were no longer fun; they were serious, and if he messed up, he paid for it.

Over the years their mistrust of the boy hardened into hatred. He was nothing but a nuisance, an extra piece of luggage, something else they had to drag with them every time they moved city. Sure, he still stole money and precious objects for them, so they could afford all the booze they wanted, but he owed it to them. They had saved his life, after all. They had been merciful.

And as for Gar… With only two role models in his life (and very poor ones at that) he struggled, to say the least, to grow up into a well-rounded individual. He knew what was right and wrong; morals had been taught to him at an early age, and although the lines were somewhat blurred for him now, his gut feelings told him when he really shouldn't do something. He wasn't quite sure how to act, but he did know that he didn't want to be anything like his two companions. He hadn't spoken to another human being in years, and his view of the 'outside world' was distorted. If he had ever been put into a situation where he had to interact with people, he wouldn't have known what to do. It just so happened, though, that he hadn't.

This…unorthodox upbringing had created a rather strange personality. He was naïve, knowing so little about people and their ways, and yet he was possibly the most skilled thief the world had seen in years, and knew how to stay out of sight and get to places no one was supposed to go. His fragile appearance belied his inner strength; a weaker person would have crumbled long ago. He was just like so many teenagers his age, desperately seeking his place in the world, wanting to find where he belonged.

_And here I am_, he thought sardonically. He passed a hand absentmindedly over his sore face, wondering why his life was the way it was. He wondered where it had all gone wrong. _We've come a long way from stealing 'Easter eggs' and golden building bricks…_

He found his thoughts turning to yesterday, the teens they had seen at the museum. _Superheroes_. He loved that word, and all the possibilities it presented, just as he feared it. He knew all about the Teen Titans, of course; after living in a superhero team's city of residence for a few months, you can't help but pick up at least the basic facts. They were on TV and in newspapers all the time. But seeing them in real life…that was quite a different thing. They were certainly intimidating, but they also seemed kind of…cool.

He let his eyes close, and as he drifted into a blessed, pain-relieving sleep, one thought lingered in his mind.

_I wonder what it would be like to be a superhero…_

* * *

_It sucks being a superhero_, Raven thought when she realised she actually had nothing left to do. Free time was great, but this was just too much. 

She glanced around the living room. Starfire had finally managed to coax Robin away from the computer, and now they were snuggled up on the couch together, watching some sappy flick that Raven was trying her hardest to tune out. Cyborg was out of sight; probably checking up on his 'baby' one more time before bed.

That just left Raven.

She'd finished her book, and she didn't have any others she hadn't already read. It was still murky outside, deterring her from going up to the roof. She began to understand why the others had been complaining of boredom. There was literally nothing happ—

Raven froze (although she had already been sitting still). There was something not quite right with that last statement; something _was_ happening, somewhere, or something was going to happen very soon… Raven cursed the imprecision of her psychic senses. Well, whatever it was, now that she had nothing else to occupy her mind, it was making her restless.

She stood and walked slowly over to the window, each step feeling weighted with significance. She could have sworn that time slowed down as she moved, and each footstep reverberated with a low thrum that was not quite sound.

She reached her destination, the immense wall-to-wall window that gave her a view of the city. It looked so small, a tiny cluster of civilisation perched so precariously on the brink of the water, overshadowed by the threateningly dark sky. She searched it with her eyes even as she reached out to it with her empathic senses.

Somewhere out there, something was wrong.

* * *

"We're back!" Stokes called cheerfully as he strode through the door, followed closely by Kurt. Gar, sitting on the windowsill, was not startled; he'd seen them coming, and heard them long before that. Apparently they didn't understand what 'keeping a low profile' meant. Still, at least they seemed to be in a much better mood. He turned his head to look at them. 

"How's ya day been, kid?" he asked mockingly. Gar didn't reply. "Ours was great, thanks for askin'. Hey, guess what, kid? We were talkin' to a few of our new friends, about those bratty kids that tried to take us down. Turns out they've been causing nothin' but trouble ever since they appeared…which is a coupla years now. Couple of the guys've even been caught by them before! Yeah, but you know what the mighty police department's like these days in a city like this…they might as well give ya a key so you can come an' go as ya please. That's what Billy was sayin'."

Stokes moved around the room as he talked, throwing his jacket on the couch then going over to the kitchenette to get a beer from the fridge. He turned back around with the can in his hand. Gar only watched silently as he popped it open and took a swig.

"Well anyway, see, they was all sayin' that they wish there was some way to get rid of 'em for good. So we was listenin', and then ol' Kurt 'ere has one of his brainwaves. So he says, "We might jus' be able to help ya there" and all the guys was like "What?" so he says "We got ourselves a secret weapon"." He fixed his squinty little eyes on the boy's small form. "We got ourselves a green freak. That's why you're gonna help us – and our friends."

Gar spoke up for the first time since they'd come back. "What d'ya mean?"

Kurt moved to stand next to Stokes, and Gar didn't like the spark that lit in both pairs of eyes. Stokes' mouth twisted into a devious grin at Kurt's cold words.

"You are going to kill the Teen Titans."

* * *

Ooh! Yep; next chapter should be when Gar and the Titans meet...I think. 

And I can finally call him Gar! I got sick of saying 'the boy'. It was meant to be so you didn't know who he was at first, but all it did was make the whole first chapter really weird and awkward. One of the things I'll have to change later...

Please, please review!

Seriously, even if you have nothing important to say, or if you hate it, just tell me. I really want to know how to improve, which things work and which don't, any questions you might have etc. It would make me so happy to hear from you!

Also, a quick question: if you replace a chapter with another document, you don't lose the reviews and hits for that chapter, do you? I was just checking because I want to go back and revise everything afterwards.

I'll try not to leave the next chapter so long. Even if it takes ages, though, I'm not going to give up on this story. It's my baby!

Review! C'mon, don't make me resort to threats!


	4. So It Begins

Many, many thanks to The Flying Frog (whom I forgot to mention last chapter), Tuli-Susi and Vampiris. You have no idea how much your reviews mean to me!

* * *

Chapter Four

"_What?!_"

Stokes smiled cruelly. "You need us to repeat it to drum it into yer thick skull, greenie? You're gonna kill the brats."

There was a lot Gar didn't know about the world, but some things were clear to him. One thing he knew was that you did not go around killing people. He'd hurt people before, but he'd never killed anyone – and he wasn't about to start now, if he could help it.

Taking a deep breath, he met Stokes' eyes. "No, I'm not."

The man's grin faded slightly, and his eyebrows lowered menacingly. "You're not the one making decisions here. We say you gotta do something, you do it. And we say you're gonna dispose of a few pests."

Kurt cut in before Gar could interrupt. "Relax; no one's killing anybody for a while, anyway. The Titans are far too valuable for us not to make use of them first."

Now Gar was even more wary, if that was possible. "How?"

Kurt smiled, rubbing his hands together in a subconscious sign of anticipation. "We're going to 'persuade' the superpowered snobs to pull off the greatest heist of all time."

* * *

This had to be the lamest heist of all time. 

"Stay back, Titans, or you'll get _robbed!_"

Ever.

Raven sighed and moved to the side to avoid a badly-thrown trashcan. What did they think they were doing, trying to rob a bank? The three idiots couldn't even use their surprisingly high-tech weapons properly; one of them had a sort of robot-suit that was proving to be near-impossible to take down, but apparently it wasn't helping his aim. Raven pushed him back into a wall with a blast of dark power, then looked around for her friends.

Cyborg had powered up his cannon and was aiming at robot-suit-guy, who was just getting back up to his feet. Starfire was dodging strange, random objects issuing from what could be mistaken as a child's toy wand while firing her own green projectiles, and Robin was leaping at a man bearing a cane – as the boy raised his staff to strike, the man disappeared then re-materialised behind him and delivered a blow to the head with the business end of the cane.

She was only distracted for a second, but that's all it took. Apparently robot-suit-guy had just discovered the laser feature on his suit, because now he was shooting wild beams at anything and everything.

It was pure luck – bad luck, that is – that one hit her. It wasn't a particularly powerful blast, but it was enough to knock her out of the sky. She hit the ground with a painful thud, not having the time to stop herself. There was a singed patch on the left side of her leotard, and her side stung when she moved to get up.

She risked a quick glance around. Cyborg was some way down the street, struggling with some tough-looking restraints which she suspected had thwarted his attack against the nuisance now approaching her. She looked up, hating the feeling of helplessness, into the eyes of the man controlling the robot suit. They were just visible through the thick visor, and she could see the manic expression in them.

He raised a metal arm, and Raven found herself looking down the barrel of a gun.

* * *

Gar peered at Kurt almost curiously. "I…don't understand." 

This provoked a short, cold laugh. "'Course you don't, freak. Let us explain."

"Come on, kid," said Kurt in an almost friendly tone. "Come sit on the couch and we'll go through the plan."

Gar did so, cautiously, never taking his eyes off Kurt as he walked to the kitchenette and reached up to get something from a cupboard. He returned to the living space and held out his offering.

It was a Danish.

An actual Danish Pastry.

Gar could feel his mouth watering, but he stared at the innocent-looking object in Kurt's hand with suspicion. "What's that for?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "It's for you. You need to get your strength up; you're going to fight your first real battle in – oh – ten minutes or so."

The boy's eyes widened. "Battle? Ten minutes?"

Stokes snorted. "You're a quick one, ain'tcha? Look, you ungrateful little sod, you gonna eat that before I do?"

Whatever the motives behind it, Gar wasn't stupid enough to turn down food when it was freely offered to him. He took the pastry with great reverence, drinking in the sight and smell and feel of it. For a moment he lost himself, and only a sharp nudge in the ribs brought him back.

"Come on, kid, focus. This is complicated. And shove that thing down yer gizzard, wouldya? It's making me hungry."

Gar nodded, still feeling a little dazed, and tentatively took a bite. The sweet taste filled his dry mouth, and he closed his eyes for a second to savour it. He then made eye contact with Kurt again to show he was listening.

"So, it's like this. We told ya 'bout our friends; well, there were these three, said they'd had a few run-ins with the Titans in the past. Weird guys – a blue fella, a bald midget and a freaky red-haired limey. _But_, they were able to provide a weapon each, in exchange for the promise that we'd take care of the brats. So, then we found three volunteers willing to take on the Titans."

Gar's heart started hammering at the mention of the Titans and the thought of what he had to do to them. _It won't come to that. I'll find some way out of it. They won't make me do it._ He paused in his chewing. "So if they're fighting them, why do you need me?"

Kurt smiled, obviously enjoying this. "You're going to stop them."

Gar's brows furrowed. "The Titans?"

His smile widened. "No. Our three guys."

His confusion probably couldn't climb any higher. "But…why would I—" His Danish was forgotten as realisation finally dawned. "It's a setup. I go in and 'help' the Titans, and get them to trust me."

Kurt was full-on beaming with manic glee now. "Yes! Well done, kid, you're gettin' faster. Yeah, the guys know about you, so when you 'fight' them, they'll act like you beat them, you'll look like a hero, and the Titans will be thinking that they need another addition to their little team."

The boy's frown still hadn't left his face. There were flaws in the plan; too many flaws. "They won't ask me to join after one fight."

"'Course not," interrupted Stokes. "But you gotta keep fighting with 'em, build up their trust, 'til they think you've earned it."

"But you said crimefighters and heroes were horrible. You said I couldn't trust them, that they'd kill me in an instant."

"That's right, kid; if they knew who you were, they wouldn't hesitate to kill ya – or worse. But you gotta pretend to be one of 'em – pretend you're like them."

Gar shook his head slowly, fear welling up inside. "They'll know. I don't even have a name."

They knew what he meant; a superhero name. It would be too risky giving his real one.

Kurt waved a dismissive hand. "Think of something on the way there."

"'There'?"

"Yes, 'there'. Our guys should have started the fight some time ago, at the bank. Wouldn't want to keep them waiting, would we? They're not pros – they'll only be able to hold out so long. Let's get in the car."

"Wait!" _Just one last detail…_

"What?" snapped Stokes irritably. He was clearly impatient to get going.

"I…don't know how to fight."

Stokes shrugged. "You've done it before. 'Sides, it's just pretend – the guys will make it look convincing." He opened the door for Kurt and waited for him to walk out. Gar reluctantly followed, still absorbed in all the possible problems. As he passed the door where Stokes was waiting to lock it, the man's greedy eyes fell on the half-eaten pastry in the boy's hand. He looked tempted for a moment, then seemed to change his mind. "I'd eat it, but I don't know where your grubby little green mitts have been."

"How do I…make them believe me?"

Kurt, striding purposefully to their little rustbucket of a car, didn't bother to turn around to answer.

"Act."

* * *

Raven just managed to raise a shield in time to protect herself, but the force of the shot surprised her. The dark energy bubble warded off the blow, but at the cost of its own existence. She watched in dismay as it flickered out, already preparing to replace it. 

But as she raised her hand, something wrapped around it. Something that looked very much like a colourful string of handkerchiefs.

The multicoloured rope fastened itself up her arm until it reached her head, where it firmly placed itself over her mouth.

_Um…_

Three figures stood around her, leering down at her, brandishing a cane, a wand and an arm-turned-gun. All three weapons were pointing directly at her, and a frantic glance at the area revealed Robin lying beneath a piano (presumably magically-conjured) and Starfire trying to get him out; neither had noticed her yet. Cyborg had, and was running towards her, but he wasn't fast enough. He wouldn't get there in time.

…_crap._

She struggled against her bonds and tried to shout a muffled mantra, but she knew it wouldn't work. She scrunched her eyes closed and tried to calm herself. _No, don't be such a coward. Look them in the eyes._

So she opened her eyes to give them her best death-glare – but quickly found the three figures replaced by a green blur.

What looked like a green ram had just knocked the three men away from her. They lay sprawled on the ground, startled. She heard one of them mutter something about 'surprise' before her attention was drawn back to the strange animal that had just saved her. In the second she'd looked away it had apparently turned into a dog, although still green, and it bounded towards her. She stiffened, unsure whether it was friend or foe, but didn't have time to do anything else before it reached her. It started ripping away her restraints, then before her eyes it changed into a green boy. He gently pulled the ropes off her head, and she spoke as soon as her mouth was free.

"Who are you?"

Dark green eyes brightened with a smile. "You can call me Beast Boy."

* * *

Um, hello. It's been a while, hasn't it? Quite a long while. Never mind; the next update should be much faster, since it's nearly the Xmas holidays. 

So, here it is. A fair bit shorter than the last one…but look, Beast Boy and Raven finally meet! Yay!

I am _really_ not sure why I focused on the Danish pastry so much. I guess I was just hungry.

Please, please review, and I'll be back…well, hopefully a lot sooner than last time. :) 


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